


collecting constellations

by azureforest



Series: ffxivwrite [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Ambiguously Draconic Estinien, Found Family, Gen, Nonbinary Character, Sharing a Brain, Tumblr: FFXIVwrite2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:41:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26267401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azureforest/pseuds/azureforest
Summary: || collection for ffxivwrite 2020.3. muster.soul's haunted.fray and ardbert come face to face.
Relationships: Cerigg & Taynor
Series: ffxivwrite [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1481183
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	1. 1. crux (taynor, cerigg. shb caster quest spoilers.)

**Author's Note:**

> [does a silly little dance] here we go again! s/o to sea-wolf-coast-to-coast for organizing this once again \o/ here's to more words!
> 
> in the event i touch on spoilers, i'll warn beforehand in the chapter title and notes. tags and rating will be updated as i progress.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> caster role quest spoilers ahead!
> 
> 1\. crux.
>
>> Even in the ever-shifting sands of the desert, a hundred years after the flood, there are still memories to be found and shared.
>> 
>> Taynor does exactly that.

The light-blasted seas of sand were bright even against the sunset sky, and Taynor wiped sweat off his brow, craning his neck up to peer at Cerigg- They’d spent the better part of the day stalking their quarry across the deserts, some manner of sandworm with a habit of consuming bits of crystal, with no luck. The wall of solid light still towered over Nabaath Araeng, its influence still palpable even with the return of the night, and while it never wreaked havoc upon Taynor’s questing senses, it was still enough to throw off any aetheric trail the worm and its crystals may have left, hiding so many fulms underground as it was. Cerigg returns the boy’s gaze with a shrug, scratching the back of his neck.

“Reckon we should call it a day here. You holding up alright, lad?”

“I’m fine,” Taynor replies, “but you’re right. We should conserve our strength for the morrow- Truly, I’m certain that I can track the sandworm down with just a little rest.” He doesn’t mention the beginnings of sunburn he can feel stinging at his face, freckles standing out even more against his pale skin from prolonged exposure to it, but Cerigg raises his eyebrows at him, nonetheless.

“Mhmmm.” he hums. There’s a note of worry in it, so Taynor offers him a sheepish smile in return. It falters when Cerigg rests a heavy hand on his head, tousling his hair into a mess.

“Cerigg!” he yelps. The hume grins, before turning around and stopping, tilting his head in the general direction of the nearest settlement. After taking a moment to smooth down his hair, Taynor follows.

“Don’t think I don’t see those burns, boy. C’mon, let’s return to Mord Souq.”

“Ah-” A grimace- But his steps continue carrying him homewards, silently noting how Cerigg falls into step beside him, matching his shorter strides like clockwork. “I’m sorry, from how long we haven’t been here…”

“Really, don’t worry about it. Just remember next time, alright?”

“Yes. I will.” A pause. “And isn’t the Inn closer? Night falls quickly here- It always has.”

“Right on.” Changing direction, Cerigg steps over a scrap of ruin, peers at the horizon where Taynor’s gaze follows. The sun does set faster here, he muses, or perhaps it’s simply a trick of the light- Between the amber earth that fair gleamed against the encroaching night and the quiet chill beginning to take the place of the sweltering heat, the sun may set the same to everything but the senses and they would never be able to tell. 

“Reminds me- You ever miss this place? Ahm Araeng, I mean, coarse sand and all.”

“Well…” A tilt of the head, a musing smile. “I grew up here with Nyelbert, near Nabaath Araeng. It’s different from what I remember, but not unrecognisable. The sands always shift in strange ways, but the mountains and hills, even some of these walls… They strike familiar silhouettes, fragments of scenes. I’m almost certain they’re still the same.”

“Figures. People can change more in a hundred years than the landscape most of the time, eh?”

“And what of the wall of Light?”

“That’s what I meant by ‘most of the time’.”

A laugh, followed by another, uncertain whether it should be dry or humored. The Light was a constant one had barely known and one the other always had, its presence an oppressive force yet just as much an everyday inconvenience. A sign of encroaching doom, a sign of survival, the frozen tidal wave a bastion of hope in the face of despair.

Hope. It’s something dear and precious, a sign of life and precious dark. In this place of hope, he finds recognition. And so Taynor stops in his tracks, a quiet feeling rousing from slumber in his heart.

“Cerigg?” the elf asks.

“Mhm?” Cerigg replies.

“Can we afford a small detour?”

“If it doesn’t take too long. Why?”

But Taynor’s already scooting down a small sand dune, though not without a brief hand signal that it won’t take overlong, and Cerigg finds no other recourse but to follow- The boy walks quickly and quietly through the sand, making his way to a queer formation of boulders, placing a hand on the surface with quiet reverence- Six stones, forming an almost perfect ring, towering just over the top of Cerigg’s head like small pillars.

“What? What is it?” Cerigg asks, bewildered. “You know these rocks?”

“Yes! Yes, though I’d nearly forgotten. That they’d still be here...” Taynor’s thumb traces a little cross etched onto the stone, one of many that litter the surface, anywhere between tally marks and tic-tac-toe boards and seemingly random crosses.

“I _did_ miss this. This was our spot. Away from training and studies. Every time we got to come here, we made a mark like so on the rock, Nyelbert and I. Then we’d play pretend, or read, or simply talk the hours away. See how far we could throw sticks or stones, draw shapes into the sand, pretend this was our indomitable fortress. We even had a tarp to protect us from the elements that we might stay longer, but I suppose that’s long gone.”

Tracing another cross, then another, Taynor giggled. “I carved these.” Then he traced another two. “These were Nyelbert.” The boy pauses, with his finger at the end of the second stroke. Something flickers across his face, then: Contemplation. Sorrow. Grief. But most of all, relief, the gentle, kind emotion in your chest you feel when you witness another dawn.

“Would you like to leave a mark as well, my friend?”

Cerigg blinks. Once. Twice. “Me? Are you sure, lad? Isn’t this place special to you and Nyelbert?” _Sacred_ , he would have asked after a beat of silence- But the thought never met air, for Taynor’s reply came without hesitation, bright and sunny.

“Of course! I think he would have liked having someone tall enough to set up the tarp on his own, too.”

“ _Hey!_ ”

The boy laughs. “I jest! He always did insist on helping me when I attempted it on my own. But I do think he would like if you joined us. No- I know he would.” he scoots over, smoothing his palm over a spot left unmarred. “Um- If nothing else, think of it as thanks. Yet another, because we cannot thank you enough. And we are friends, and friends share their secrets, right?” He pats the wall. “Go ahead- I insist.”

Cerigg sidles in next to Taynor, crouching and sweeping imaginary sand from the surface. “Well damn me, you’re serious, aren’t you? Well this is an honor, lad. Would be poor form of me not to accept it.” Procuring a knife from his belt, he sets the point of it against the rock- He’d have to resharpen it again later, but no matter- And drags it down the surface, then again, scratching repeatedly until at last, another cross was etched into the rock for the first time in a century. Taynor claps as Cerigg runs a thumb over the mark, blows off the grit and dust and stows his knife away, admiring his handiwork. It’s cruder than he would’ve liked, but still cleaner than the crosses carved and scratched into the rock in turn.

“There we go.” he gives a satisfied huff. “Reckon it’ll stay another hundred years?”

“With any luck, it shall.” Taynor mirrors his grin, all hope and pride. “A lasting place, just for friends. As Nyelbert remembered, so shall you and Meteor and I.”

Cerigg stands, pats the top of the stone. “We should show this place to Meteor too, then. And then it’ll be his turn to carve his mark into these here rocks, right? With that big old greatsword of his too, no doubt.”

“Oh, that would be splendid! That would make me so happy- If it’s not too much to ask, could we bring a tarp next time, too?”

“Of course, lad. We’ll make a fortress everlasting of this place yet! But first...”

Taynor yelps when he's flicked on the nose- Pink-red and stinging, something he nearly forgot in the midst of his reminiscing. Cerigg laughed. "We'll have to hurry back and take care of that sunburn of yours!"


	2. 2. sway (estinien, sb.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2\. sway.
>
>> the clouds have parted, and the skies cleared.
>> 
>> estinien ascends kugane tower.

_ Mayhap this is cheating, _ Estinien thinks as he vaults up the next story, smiling smugly down at the brave if not foolish few actually attempting to climb the tower- The fact this structure is some manner of tourist attraction at all is somewhat baffling to him, vigilant keepers bolstering the resolve of some would-be climbers by equipping each and every one who passes with intent to climb with some manner of wind-imbued charm to spare them the worst of their hurts (and, of course, death).

He bypassed them completely, of course. A roegadyn shouted after him in alarm from an open window, but he ignored her, and she in turn cursed at him (at least, he thinks she did).

Perhaps, in some fashion, the call to heights was inherent to a great many Spoken. Or perhaps whatever thrill there was in defying Death itself. The elezen scoffs, unleans himself from his spot up against the wall, leaping up to the next scaffolding, turning upon his heel and leaping to the ridge before the window- Stopping himself before he smashes a hole in the wall with a midair turn, instead using it as leverage to soar to the next platform he could see.

Some people are gaping at him. He returns their gazes with a tempered look, and they quickly return to their business with flustered gusto- He watches as a hyur, a viera- Fury, is that a lalafell?- make it to the next outcrop, but then some hapless au ra stumbles on their next jump and plummets several fulms-

There is no time to think. He crouches in an instinctive maneuver to rush over and cushion them before they break every second bone in their body- But the wind enchantment takes effect with a tinkling noise that make his ears twitch, slows their fall, and leaves the Au Ra simply lying on the shingles, unharmed and thoroughly demoralised.

Hm. So it  _ does _ work. The thought’s a little grim- Of course it does, noone would come if it doesn’t- But he thinks it nonetheless. Perhaps, he thinks, suddenly slipping into his discarded mantle of Azure Dragoon, Ishgard could have use of similar baubles…

Well. He may no longer be Captain, but he could still bring that to Aymeric’s attention some other time. He diverts the course of his leap up, up, up-

And without even truly intending to, he is at the top of the tower, Kugane sprawling underneath and the ocean rolling on the opposite side as far as the eye can see, distant sails and flags dotting the everblue waters. Noone else had made it up here yet- Or if they had, they had long since descended.

Oh. He is alone, well and truly. Though he needs a moment to reorient himself along these lines- Isolation in the midst of a bustling city- He finds his bearings quickly, and settles on a quiet,  _ ah, finally _ .

Estinien gives pause, takes a moment to breathe the balmy breeze, brush stray hairs away from where they stick to his lips. Far beyond the horizon, the sun sets, bathing everything in an orange glow. He lets out a breath, slow and pleased, pulls his hair out of its ponytail to tie it back up again as he lets his eyes drown in the blue, blue sea. For a moment, he is no longer a spire of stone and steel, but a field in a passing storm, bending and swaying but ultimately unbreaking- The windswept grasses on the rolling hills of a Coerthas that lives only in memory.

Odd, how the thought is no longer accompanied by pain and anger. How he remembers now how to stop and breathe in reminiscence. Odd, but pleasant.

Estinien sits down, closes his eyes. He hums in the cadence of dragonsong, letting himself sway. Perhaps he will bask in this feeling for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [remembers sb drg quests] [softly, with feeling] argh. estinien


	3. 3. muster (fray, ardbert. 5.0 end.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3\. muster.
>
>> soul's haunted.
>> 
>> fray and ardbert come face to face.

They have… very golden eyes. Not like the warrior’s own- These molten rather than sunlight, the kind that makes you drown endlessly in fire and the seven rings of hell, molding to your form and scalding you in eternal judgement, damnation. They are also very deliberately making eye contact with him, challenging him to see who will drown first, be it in a pool of precious metal, or an endless, yawning sky.

The latter is not like to happen. Ardbert tries not to squirm under the shade’s scrutiny; For the most part, he succeeds. If this were a simple enemy, there would be no need for intimidation or lack of action- But before him stands no beast he faces down on this day, no villain he must needs strike down. It’s more uncomfortable than acutely dangerous than any standoff he can remember, recent or otherwise. For lack of a better way to put it: More than anything, it feels more like meeting a close friend’s very intimidating relative. He is, indeed, not here to defeat some looming evil- No need for heroes, here- Only to be judged by this shade’s endless scrutiny, to pass muster.

To pass muster... As a housemate. Or a soulmate? Wait, that’s already a word. But since he and the warrior are technically…

Ah, hells. He is not going to give himself a headache on top of this.

“So, ah.” Ardbert starts. “Hey. My name is Ardbert…?”

“I know that.” the shade snaps. “And drop the paltry pretenses, you know bloody well who I am.”

“Um.” Does he? He might. The hume shuffles through a mental catalogue of the times he’s seen the shadowy figure loitering around the Warrior of Light instead of fighting alongside them, then grasps for a name. “... Oktai?” he tries.

Wrong answer. Though he can’t see their face properly behind the barbut, the raised eyebrow is palpable in the space between them. “Nosy. It’s Fray, to you. Or Esteem, whichever suits you more. Perhaps you’d even like to call me by our Warrior’s name?”

“I don’t follow…?”

“No matter. You’ll learn soon enough.”

Learn- learn  _ what _ , exactly? As far as housewarming parties go, this seemed a poor one. Fray kept up their steady gaze, eyes fair gleaming with- Something, something he couldn’t quite name. Though it wasn’t outright malice, it stands that if looks could kill, Ardbert was certain he’d’ve shriveled into a lifeless husk by now.

It takes a bit to register that their glower had shifted to expectation, and with Ardbert’s prolonged silence they’d come to… some sort of conclusion? Is that a good sign? Their weight shifts just a little bit (but everything echoes so loud in this chamber of souls, can Fray see him the same?) and he scrambles into motion, extends a friendly fist- And freezes partway through, curls and uncurls his fingers nervously, apparently suddenly realising that the shade seemed more likely to shake his hand than bump his fist. Still they look down at his fumbling hand, and let out a snort. Is that- amusement-?

Before he has the time to properly decipher what’s going on, Fray reaches forward, folds his hand back into a fist, and bumps their knuckles against his. It- feels the same, like back then in the Crystarium, despite how their hand is just a bit smaller than Ardbert’s own, how they don gauntlets instead of leather gloves, how the golden eyes are a shade darker.

It’s the same weight, the same strength, the same gentle blossom of warmth where their hands meet. Something like understanding dawns on him as Fray nods. Ardbert blinks, remembers- Remembers how to stop drowning, remembers how to breathe.

So, hold on. They’re-? Wait. Wait…  _ What? _

Fray tilts their head, looks at him sidelong. " _You'll learn soon enough._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> m'rusty send help

**Author's Note:**

> i havent written diddly-squat in half an age, so im impressed at the rate i spat this first one up. hopefully i'll be able to write more than last year, and even if i don't, i hope its enjoyable! :D


End file.
